


Mediator

by MasonRust



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Family, Family Issues, Gen, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:09:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5725786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MasonRust/pseuds/MasonRust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon is injured and Virgil has reached the end of his tether with Scott firmly in his sights. Lots of swearing and minor brawl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mediator

Virgil was many things, but he was not by nature an angry person. However if there is anything that working with international rescue can tell you, it's that there is an exception to every rule. As he stood over Gordon in the sick bay, Virgil could feel anger rising up his throat like bile. He didn't try to quash it as he pushed away from the bed and stalked up the corridor. Instead he bathed in it. 

Alan was sprawled across the couch, arms pillowed under his head. He didn't often find himself unable to sleep, but every time he closed his eyes the sound of rocks hitting flesh made his ears scream. The soft click of Scott typing on a keyboard helped keep the sound away and Alan stared at the ceiling, wondering what was going to happen next. Tracing patterns into the air with his eyes, Alan listened to the robotic voice that told them John was on his way. That made his stomach roll, fear clawing at the insides of his chest. John didn't come down unless it was serious, and while Alan was aware that it was serious, just not **that** serious. Swallowing he opened his mouth to voice the thought to Scott, but something blue caught his eye from the doorway. As Virgil strode into the room Alan switched the thought over, intending to ask after Gordon. The words died in his throat as he saw Virgil's face. Alan sunk back into the cushions, trying to disappear into the fabric. There was a storm written on Virgil's face and fire in his eyes. His movements were stiff, like just containing the fury was taking a physical toll.   
"Scott Tracy"  
The words held death itself and Alan couldn't help but stare at Virgil. Scott looked up from the desk, his face almost angelic in its sincerity. It twitched briefly as he took in the expression on Virgil’s but settled back.   
"Virgil."  
Scott rose from the chair and faced Virgil over the red surface of their fathers desk. The stance was almost familiar, the only missing element their father sitting with his hands steepled in front of his eyes.   
"What the fuck were you thinking?"  
Virgil's voice didn't go up, it went down, the words soft and calm. He reminded Alan of John when he was angry.  
"What the fuck was I thinking? I was thinking that I had to get six people out of a collapsing mine shaft before they joined the other two."  
"Oh, I know why Scott but that wasn't my question. It was what the fuck were you thinking?"  
"I answered you."  
"Maybe I should be more fucking specific, seeing as your thick skull can't seem to understand."  
He stepped even closer until the desk was touching his legs and Scott drew himself up to his full height, looking down at Virgil. He didn't seem to notice the difference.   
"What on God's green earth made you decide to send in Gordon?"  
"I couldn't go in, and he was he only option."  
"He was not."  
"Virgil, you weren't there. I had to make a decision-"  
"There's always another way fuckwit! You almost got him killed!"  
The desk must have been digging into both of them now, phantom hands keeping them from each other’s throats. Alan found himself praying John would hurry up because without a voice the desk's authority only went so far.   
"You know how it works Virgil. I had a situation and had to make a decision. Maybe I didn't run through every single fucking possibility but I didn't have time! Gordon's competent, he's good at his job. He agreed with me and, and"  
Scott paused, hands combing through his hair before he slammed them on the table.  
"AND I KNOW ITS MY FUCKING FAULT ALRIGHT! HE'S LYING DOWNSTAIRS AND YOU HAVE NO FUCKING IDEA WHAT I'D DO TO MAKE SURE HE WASN'T. Fuck Virgil, I'd lie there instead if I could."  
"THIS IS NOT ABOUT YOU SCOTT! DON'T YOU FUCKING UNDERSTAND? THIS IS ABOUT GORDON."  
"I know -"  
"NO YOU DON'T! THE PROBLEM ISN'T YOUR DECISION MAKING, ALTHOUGH THAT'S HARDLY ANY BETTER. IT'S THAT HE SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN OUT THERE IN THE FUCKING FIRST PLACE! HE'S A FUCKING CHILD!"  
Virgil stepped out around the desk, facing Scott with nothing but air.  
"YOU DON'T SEEM TO REALISE THAT SCOTT."  
"Virgil, he does his job. He wants to do this, he knows the risks and he's good at it. You know it too, and in most of the world you're just as much of a child as he is."  
"YOU'RE STILL MISSING THE POINT! IT'S NOT THAT HE CAN'T SEE THE RISKS IT'S THAT HE SHOULDN'T BE MAKING THE DECISION. YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE LET HIM GO!"  
"No you don't - I give up. I don't want to have a fight Virgil."  
"YOU JUST DON'T GET IT DO YOU? YOU LET HIM GO IN, AND YOU SHOULD HAVE KEPT HIM HOME."  
The alarm the signalled John's approach lit up the room. Alan relaxed, knowing it was going to be alright. If their father couldn't keep them apart, John would be able to.  
Scott turned away from Virgil, going towards the door. Virgil grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him back.   
"I'm not finished."  
"Yes you are."  
Alan barely processed the movement except for the sound of bone and skin meeting its counterpart and Scott staggered, catching himself on the desk. The room froze and time slowed as a drop of blood dripped down onto the desk. Alan couldn't move, transfixed by Scott's bleeding face and Virgil's bloody knuckles. Then everything unfroze.   
"WHAT THE FUCK!"  
Scott pushed himself off the desk and straight at Virgil. His fist made Virgil stagger. Alan jumped off the couch.  
"Guy's stop it!"  
Virgil looked up and threw himself at Scott, tackling him to the ground. Scott's head narrowly missed the desk and then they were rolling. Alan couldn't tell which blow belonged to who.   
"STOP!"  
They didn't, and Alan could hear the sound of running. Kayo and John appeared at the door and paused for only a second.   
"Hey!"  
Kayo went for Scott and John for Virgil. John grabbed Virgil around the shoulders and hauled him backwards while Kayo grabbed onto Scott and did the same. John had trouble, his height the only thing giving him a hope against the truck that was Virgil. John swung around so that his body was between the two of the, still locked onto Virgil.   
"Both of you, CUT IT OUT!"  
John shouted the last words and for Alan it was a day of firsts. John didn't shout, Virgil didn't hit.   
"THAT IS ENOUGH!"  
Breathing hard, Scott tried to shake Kayo off but she kept her grip. Virgil just stared at Scott until John got in his line of sight.   
"Let me go."  
Virgil's words were ground, his tone red. John shook his head.   
"Sit down."  
Virgil glared at him and Alan could see Kayo saying something to Scott. John just looked back, his face almost blank and finally Virgil dropped into a crouch.   
"Alan, would you check on Gordon?"  
Alan tried not to run from the room, relieved at his dismissal. It didn't stop the sick feeling in his stomach and the image of blood on the white floor. As he was walking out, he heard John's voice.  
"What the fuck is wrong with you two?"  
Then he was out of earshot and Alan picked up his pace, running down to the sick bay. His thoughts swirled around his head and at the whirlpools centre was what he'd just witnessed. Alan arrived outside the door too soon, forcing himself to breathe in and out, to calm himself. The knob of the door was cold against his skin, and Alan twisted it. It was like all sound had been amplified and the door creaked open. Alan peaked through the door.  
"Gords?"  
"Alan"  
His brothers voice was scratchy and soft, sending the fear monster inside Alan's chest into another fit. Alan walked over to the chair and sat down next to the bed. He didn't look at anything but Gordon's face, and even that wasn't scratch free. A large bruise darkened the left side of his face, a scrape on the bottom of his jaw. Alan pursed his lips, thoughts once again swirling and winding through his skull.   
"Hey, what's wrong?"  
Gordon's battered face held a slight frown, concern in his eyes. The irony of it all made him want to laugh. He was fine, Gordon was not.   
"Nothing."  
"Liar. It's the others isn't it?"  
"Yeah."  
"Well they're not here. And you're not allowed to worry."  
Alan just stared at Gordon and the frown which turned into a grin.   
"I'm sick, which means you have to do what I say. Get the cards. I want to play cheat."  
The grin made Alan's shoulders decompress, the fear monster quiet in his chest. He went to get the cards. 

Gordon woke with gritty eyes and pain lancing through his body. The room was dark and Alan was gone from the chair next to the bed. Instead another shadowy figure filled the plastic.   
"Scott?"  
His throat was dry and Scott's head jerked up from where it had been hanging.   
"How are you feeling?"  
There was something wrong with his face, something Gordon couldn't quite make out in the low light.   
"I'm okay. Water?"  
"Here."  
Scott passed over the bottle and Gordon had to force himself not to drain it. His throat still smarted when he passed it back. Scott placed the bottle on the floor and Gordon settled back into the bed. He didn't meet Gordon's eyes and seemed content to gaze slightly above or below his face. There was tension drawn across his shoulders and for a moment Gordon thought he was going to say something. Then he shook his head.   
"I'll let you sleep."  
When he stood the tension drew tighter and Gordon had to stop himself from sighing.   
"It's not your fault."  
He'd pulled open the door and light slid in through the crack. His face was bruised, his nose covered in white tape. Scott paused at the door, one hand on the knob.   
"Actually Gordon, it is."  
Then he stepped through and pulled it softly shut.


End file.
